


post-requiem

by nonwal



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canonical Character Death, Episode 26 spoilers, Gen, the syphilis bandits strike again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonwal/pseuds/nonwal
Summary: “There’s supposed to benineof them, it’s in their name! I can only see four right now and there’sno wayyou’re gonna convince me that’s a good thing. Do you want our clothes again? We can do that.”“Stop unbuttoning your trousers and tell me what the fuck is going on,” Keg yells. She isn’t nearly drunk enough for this shit.(In which Keg is extremely tired after everything that's happened, and forgets herself for a moment.)





	post-requiem

Keg isn’t on watch when it happens, but some cursing in whatever language Caleb speaks sometimes wakes her up pretty damn quick.

The first thing to register is that there’s seven of them, and her heart stops for half a second before she counts an eighth. And no, these ones are scrawny, ragtag fuckers. Okay. Keg grabs her hammer and axe.

This, she can deal with.

Caleb holds his hand out and flames flicker across it. Two of the scrawny fuckers start yelling something about someone named Trevor and _oh god it’s them._

She’s halfway through rushing to the nearest fuckwit and taking out his kneecaps when a hand on her shoulder yanks her back. Beau. What the fuck?

Caleb hasn’t let the firebolt go yet. The bandages on his hand are starting to blacken and burn away. Nott appears by his side, whispering something urgently over the frantic apologies and yelling coming from the scrawny brigands.

“Can anyone tell me why we haven’t killed them yet? I wanna go back to sleep.”

“We’ve met them before. They aren’t fucking worth it,” Beau says.

“We are _so_ sorry,” one of the men says again. “We can just go away and no one has to get killed and you can go back to sleep.”

“What the hell, man? We outnumber them. Two to one, come on.”

“There’s supposed to be  _nine_ of them, it’s in their name! I can only see four right now and there’s _no way_ you’re gonna convince me that’s a good thing. Do you want our clothes again? We can do that.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Stop unbuttoning your trousers and tell me what the fuck is going on,” Keg yells. She isn’t nearly drunk enough for this shit.

“Those ones,” the wizard says, pointing with his blazing hand, “did not listen to us the last time we met. This is their third strike.”

“Caleb,” Nott says, and for a moment her voice reminds Keg of her mother. “Not tonight.” The fire flickers out.

The three he’d pointed out have raised their hands. “This was a mistake we will _not_ be repeating. We’re gonna settle down and have a nice life farming or some shit, and _not_ robbing people. Right, guys?”

A confused mumble of _right_ s choruses from a few of the other fuckwits.

“There’s only four of them,” the dissenter points out again. “And eight of us.”

 _“Ja,_ but I could kill you all myself, so you should reconsider what you are planning.”

“Especially _because_ there’s only four of us. You can walk away now and we won’t hurt you. But if you try anything?” Beau says. “I’ve had a bad week and I really fucking want to punch someone.”

“Are we just going to stand here all night?” Keg asks. “Or can we do something about the idiot weaklings and go back to sleep?”

“Hey!”

“No, she is right, you are all pathetic. And we have lost half of our party. That is _very_ bad for you, because those missing are the quiet one and the civil one and the silly one and—” He chokes up for a moment before continuing. “And the _good_ one, the colorful one who was nice to you, you remember him? They are gone, he is dead.” Caleb gestures to the rolled-up tapestry, which was their compromise after a series of really weird, tear-filled arguments about finding a healer and whether Mollymauk would want to be buried “again.”

“Um. My condolences?”

“The rest of us, though? Sure, we are trying to be better. But she is a dangerous asshole, and that one used to run with slavers, and I have tortured and murdered many people and am probably crazy. You are alive right now because my goblin friend here doesn't really want to kill you tonight, but you did shoot her last time and I am running low on benevolence.

“So," he says. "Tonight can either be very unlucky, because you tried to rob the Mighty Nein, and this time we’re just the mean ones left over—”

“And we’re fucking tired,” Keg adds.

“—and we are tired and angry and you are weaklings. Or, tonight can be very lucky for you, because you did not try to rob the people who took our friends and _those_ people would have killed you like gnats, whereas we might be merciful.”

“Also, I took all your money and I’m not going to give it back unless you leave,” Nott pipes up as she reappears next to Beau, a pouch jangling in her fist.

Stifled protests, wary glances. Whatever the fuck is happening, it’s going nowhere fast.

“If you need me to kill anyone, wake me up. I’m going back to bed,” Keg announces, and does just that.

She doesn’t fall asleep, though.

There’s a bit more back-and-forth among the bandits as they persuade the last of their group to give in, and jingling as Nott redistributes the coin and tells them to please reconsider their profession. She hears Beau say, “This silver is from me, because I’m trying to be nicer. And the gold one is for Molly.” Some sniffling, then. The bandits scuttle away. Nott and Caleb return to their watch, and Beau shuffles back into her tent. It’s fucking cold out, but there’s a single bird somewhere out there, chirping away in the middle of the night.

Keg still doesn’t fall asleep.

She hadn’t registered it in the moment, how Caleb had acted like she was one of them. Like she had any stake in this, besides getting revenge and maybe killing her demons before they kill her. He’d said _that one used to run with slavers_ but he didn’t say _that one is a coward who got our friend killed._

He’d said _the Mighty Nein,_ and Keg had said  _we_  without the slightest hesitation.

She doesn’t want this. Somehow she has it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Come weep with me on [tumblr.](http://nonwal.tumblr.com/)


End file.
